Brewing Amora
by MagikCat
Summary: Molly Prewett discovers more than she bargained for when she makes a bet involving a love potion


**Disclaimer:**** All characters you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling. The idea for the name "Regan" came Shakespeare's **_**King Lear**_**.**

**Author's Notes:** Written for the Weasley Fic Exchange at LiveJournal. Thanks to queenb23 for her sharp eye, shiiki for her suggestions, and sophiaweasley for her encouragement and lesson on "less being more."

_While Amortentia is known as the most powerful love potion in the world, it is also exceedingly complicated to brew and exceptionally dangerous if made incorrectly. Therefore, the average witch usually replaces it with Amoria—a simplified love potion only slightly less powerful than its more tempestuous sister. Follow these simple steps and in a few hours you will have your heart's desire swooning at your feet!_

Molly Prewett snapped _Cauldrons of Love: Simple Potions, Spells and Charms to Magically Capturing Your Wizard's Heart_ closed with a groan, wanting to bang her head against her bedpost. How did she get herself _into_ this?

_You were trying to show up __Regan__, that's why,_ a small voice perked up.

She threw the book angrily into her trunk, knowing the voice was right.

Regan Vane was loud, obnoxious, and had a way of digging under Molly's skin like a splinter. It didn't help that the older girl seemed to make it her daily goal to get a rise out of Molly on one thing or another—one day it was her ginger hair, the next it was her lack of broom-riding skills.

Yesterday, it had been her bravery.

Molly was hardly the bravest Gryffindor in their house—brave witches didn't get queasy over spiders, for one—but that didn't give Vane the right to say it out loud in front of the other girls.

Finally, she had had enough and recklessly demanded that Vane give her a dare—any dare—and she do it.

What she hadn't expected was for Vane to hold up her copy of _Cauldrons of Love_ and, with a vicious gleam in her eye, dare her to brew one of the love potions listed in there for Abram Diggory

Of all boys in their school, it had to be _Abram_.

She had had a crush on the Hufflepuff in her forth year but soon grew out of it when she came to the conclusion that there was no hope of him knowing she existed. Abram was a year older than her _and_ played Quidditch _and_ had a hundred other girls who fancied him.

If it had been any other person, Molly would've said no. In her opinion, love potions were a deceptive and sneaky way to get someone to love you, and she never approved of how regularly Vane was rumored to use them.

But she never backed down from a challenge—especially not one made by that obnoxious hussy.

Steeling herself again, she picked up the book again and read the ingredient list for Amoria. Molly wasn't a genius at potions, but it didn't seem too difficult to make. The non-magical plants would be easy enough to get, but Slughorn had most of the magical ones in his private and non-private stores. And he'd probably know what she was up to if she asked for them.

Anyone in her right mind would think it impossible.

But Molly refused to throw the wand down quite yet. She was a Prewett—stubbornness ran in their veins. And growing up with Gideon and Fabian had taught her that anything's possible if you had enough nerve.

She would make it work. She _had_ to.

/*\*/*\

Since the possibility of Vane sabotaging the love potion was almost certain, Molly decided to use the unused broom cupboard on the first floor as her concocting area. The only classes held on that floor were History of Magic and Muggle Studies, so she was unlikely to run into any students after lessons.

After dinner, she placed her small cauldron inside, thinking it could hold her ingredients as she gathered them. It was a small room, even when empty, but it should be a good hiding place.

Satisfied, she slipped out the door.

"Molly?"

Molly jumped and stopped herself from groaning. Just her luck. She had forgotten about the _one_ person who visited this floor.

Until this year, she hadn't known too much about Arthur Weasley, other than he was a year older, good friends with her brothers and had an odd fascination with Muggles. However, she had one night nearly _begged_ him to help her with Transfiguration, and she had steadily come to regard him as a kind of a friend. "Hello, Arthur." She smiled sweetly.

He looked from her to the door she was leaning on. "What in Merlin's name are you doing in that cupboard?"

"I was just…That is, I was…"_ C'mon Prewett—_think_!_ But her mind was blank.

A look of comprehension suddenly dawned on Arthur's face. "Ah, _I_ see." He smiled a little awkwardly. "You don't have to explain, Molly."

Molly highly doubted he _did_ see, but she wasn't going to waste time explaining herself better. "What are you doing here?" she asked instead.

"I was talking with Professor Nolt on today's lesson." He raised his voice unnaturally loud. "If you're on the way to the common room, I'll be happy to tell you about it."

Molly admittedly had very little interest in any of the Muggle contraptions he was so fond of, but he _had_ been respectful towards her privacy, so she figured she could humor him. She gave a shrug. "Why not?"

Grinning as though about to burst, Arthur immediately launched into a one-sided discussion on "ear-o planes". Molly smiled and nodded politely as they walked to Gryffindor Tower, more fascinated by his enthusiasm than the subject. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. It might be a bit presumptuous, but Molly was working against the clock.

"Arthur, can I ask a favor?" she said when he took a breath.

Arthur started, as though just remembering she was there. "Erm, yeah, I'll stop." His ears turned pink. "Sorry—didn't mean to talk so much."

"Oh, no, it's not that," she assured him. "It's just that I need powdered horn of a Graphorn from Slughorn's stores. You're older than me so I think he'd be more willing to give it to you."

Arthur snorted. "I don't take his class, Molly—and I doubt he even knows I exist."

"I'm sure he knows you _exist_," she replied with an assurance she didn't really feel. "But even if he doesn't, he can't give any reason not to give you any."

He glanced at her curiously. "You're not using it for anything that would get you into trouble, are you?"

"Of course not," she said dismissively. It wasn't a _lie_, really—love potions weren't banned. Yet. "But some prudes might disapprove if they knew."

"Ah." Again, he gave that odd smile of comprehension. "I'll see what I can do."

"You're a saint, Arthur," she told him.

He smiled, and Molly noticed, not for the first time, that it was slightly lopsided. It was a rather sweet smile, and the now-familiar funny feeling in her stomach was produced at the sight of it.

As they came to the portrait hole, Molly opened her mouth to thank him again.

"Don't worry," he interrupted in a slight whisper. "I won't tell Gideon or Fabian."

Molly couldn't help staring at Arthur as he gave the Fat Lady the password, wondering in confusion if she had missed something.

/*\*/*\

"You want me to _what_?"

"_Shhh!_ Keep it down Marley!"

Marlene McKinnon rolled her eyes behind her large glasses. "You want me to _what_?" she said in a mock whisper.

"I just need you to ask Professor Slughorn for a couple of frozen Ashwinder eggs," Molly begged.

"I'm not going along with this ridiculous bet of yours—"

"It's not just a bet—my reputation is at stake here!"

"Unless you're being called a tart, you don't give a wit about your reputation, Molly."

Molly scowled, wishing her friend didn't know her so well. "I just want the chance to bring Vane down a peg or two."

Marlene smirked. "Don't we all?"

"Besides, Slughorn _loves_ you—he'll do it." Her friend had an aptitude for potions that allowed her to do anything when it came to Slughorn.

"Why can't you do it? Slughorn likes you, too—"

"Yes, but he won't let me get away with making a love potion," Molly argued. When Marlene still looked skeptical, she put on a stern look. "Who was the one who hemmed your skirt half an hour before your first date with your current boyfriend? Who always shares her Charms notes with you?"

Her friend sighed grudgingly. "You."

"And do I ever ask for anything in return?"

"Rarely," she admitted.

Molly nodded smugly, knowing she had won. "All I'm asking is a couple of frozen eggs—please Marley?"

"You should've been in Slytherin, you know that?" Marlene snored.

Molly couldn't even be bothered by this. "So, will you do it?"

"Against my better judgment."

"You're the best, Marley," she said, squeezing her hands.

Marlene sighed mockingly. "Yes, yes—no need to get sappy about it."

/*\*/*\

She barely contained a squeal of glee when Arthur brought her a pouch containing the powdered horn of Graphorn.

"Oh Arthur! Thank you!" Not caring that she was in the middle of the common room, she threw her arms around him in a hug. Arthur stiffened and Molly quickly let go. She had never hugged him before, and it gave her an odd feeling in her stomach. "Did Slughorn give you a hard time about it?"

"A little," he admitted, a bit red in the face. "Wanted to know how much I needed and what I was using it for—that sort of thing. Like I said, he doesn't have much time for me. Old coot."

Molly rolled her eyes but let the jibe slide. "I owe you, Arthur," she said, pocketing the pouch. "If you ever need me for anything, just let me know."

He smiled a bit wistfully. "I will."

/*\*/*\

For some reason, Arthur seemed to be popping up rather a lot lately. Namely on the first floor. Not that she minded him, but she was starting to get the feeling he was doing it on purpose. When they ran into each other, he would walk her to the common room or the library or dinner, and she knew there were whispers going on about it.

And…being constantly in his presence, the funny feeling she got in her stomach whenever he was around was growing stronger.

Molly was startled from her musings as the sofa cushion sank deeply to her right.

"You've been disappearing a lot lately, Molly dear."

The left cushion sank down as well.

"We've been meaning to ask you about it, actually."

Molly rolled her eyes. _Typical big brothers._ "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gideon was smiling but his brown eyes were suspicious. "Sneaking off after dinner? Whispering conversations with your friend? Coming back—_alone_—with Arthur Weasley? People talk."

"Arthur—"

"Weasley has claimed he has nothing going on with you," Fabian said, though his look said he doubted it. "But he knows something that he's not telling."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Since when have you called Arthur 'Weasley'?"

"Since he's a suspect in the disappearance of our sister," Gideon replied firmly.

She finally crossed her arms, giving them the sternest look she could. "Arthur has never, in any way, tried to ruin my honour. Nor does he have plans to."

Fabian snorted in disbelief and Gideon said doubtfully, "If you say so." Molly rolled her eyes again, annoyed at how little faith they had in their friend.

"Can you at least let us on to what you're doing?" Fabian asked finally.

Now her temper was rising. "What are you, my babysitters?"

"We're your brothers," Gideon replied.

"It's our duty —"

"—to make sure—"

"—that you stay—"

"—out of trouble."

"I don't remember asking _you_ to do anything of the sort!" Molly snapped, getting to her feet. "And if you don't stop bothering me about it, I'll tell Mum about the tattoos you two got over the holidays. Don't think I won't!"  
She took great satisfaction in seeing their apprehensive faces as she strode away.

/*\*/*\

"Arthur! What happened?"

The older boy sat against the corridor wall, holding his shirt to his freely bleeding nose. He flinched at her voice, which seemed to only make his face hurt more. There were bruises all over his face and his glasses were askew over his crooked nose—it must have been broken.

"Imb fide, Mally," he said thickly.

She ignored him as she knelt down to get a closer look, pocketing the vial of apple juice she'd borrowed from the student's stores and drawing out her wand.

"_Episkey_!"

He poked it cautiously as she cleaned away the blood. "Thanks, Molly."

"What happened?" she demanded again. She wished she could do something about those bruises. They looked nasty.

"Nothing. I just got into a bit of a tousle, that's all."

"Your nose was broken!" Molly cried angrily. "I expected better from you, Arthur! What could've possessed you—?"

"Molly…" he muttered and his ears were red.

She ignored this. "Was it Amycus Carrow again? You know he's just a great bullying lump with as much brains as a peapod."

"Maybe, but he knows how to throw a punch." Arthur pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, clutching his ribs.

"You should go to the hospital wing," Molly said severely.

"I'm fine. Really, it's no big deal."

_This is ridiculous!_ "Madam Hawthorn—"

"—couldn't've done a better job than you. Besides, Hawthorn is a nosy parker—she'll tell Professor McGonagall and I'll lose points for fighting."

Apparently, he insisted on being stubborn about it, and she snorted. "Fine. I think there's some bruise remover in my trunk. Can you walk alright?"

He nodded and sauntered forward, limping slightly.

As Molly walked beside him, she asked, "Why were you fighting, anyway?"

"Erm…Carrow said some very rude jibe about…someone." He seemed to be pointedly avoiding her eye.

"Who?"

He swallowed and glanced even further away. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled.

Despite being upset with him for fighting like a drunken Muggle, she couldn't help but be surprised. Molly had never taken him for a fighter, but the fact that he wasn't broken in half must mean he could hold his own in a brawl.

The person must've been truly something if Arthur was willing to put up a _fight_ for them.

/*\*/*\

Compared to practically snatching the ingredients from Slughorn, Molly thought gathering the last items should be easy. Miss Sprout was technically only an assistant teacher, but Professor Leif was growing old and usually left the older students' lessons to the younger witch.

"Do you mind if I gather some plants for a potion I'm making, Miss Sprout?" she asked the next day after Herbology.

"That depends," Sprout said distractedly, dumping the Snargaluff tubers the class had collected into a large bucket. She wiped back her wispy hair. "What kind of plants are we talking about?"

"Mostly non-magical ones," Molly said innocently, handing her a list. "I'm making a potion for extra credit, you see."

She scanned the list, and then looked at Molly shrewdly. "Most of these are aphrodisiacs, Miss Prewett. What exactly are you making?"

_Blast!_

"It's for an Affinity Potion," she lied quickly. "My grandparents used to make it when they had relatives visit. It's slightly stronger than the Draught of Friendship but perfectly safe."

"Uh-huh," she said doubtfully. "I'll take your word for it, Miss Prewett. Come with me. But if I hear one declaration of love within the next two weeks, rest assured you'll be the first one questioned."

Molly gave her the innocent smile that worked so well with her family. "Thank you, Miss Sprout."

/*\*/*\

Molly examined the treasures from the greenhouses after dinner. Dill wine powder, elder berries, hibiscus leaves, bitomal flowers—it was all here.

Trying not to leap with excitement, Molly scampered up the nearest staircase to the empty cupboard. It hadn't been disturbed since she left, and she added the plants into the cauldron holding the ingredients she had collected over the week. The next day was Saturday, and she would have all day to concoct it. Still grinning, Molly carefully slipped out of the cupboard.

Only to wish she hadn't.

There was no mistaking Regan Vane's dark, overly-styled hair, and Molly didn't need the loud smacking sounds to know what they were doing.

Disgusted, she made to sneak away quietly since they seemed too busy to notice her. Then Vane's head tilted slightly, and she caught sight of bright red hair and the glint of glasses.

She came to a halt, stunned.

"Regan, wait—" Arthur muttered, pulling away. Then his eyes locked with Molly's and widened in panic.

Vane whirled around, and there was no mistaking the look of fierce triumph in her eyes as she smirked. "Hello, Molly darling!" she chirped in a sugary voice that made Molly want to cast her Bat-Bogey Hex. "I was just showing my appreciation to Artie—he helped me pass my Charms test, you know."

Molly could only nod stupidly, not taking her eyes off Arthur. Something cold and wriggling was invading her stomach, as though she had swallowed Snargaluff tubers. Was it…disappointment? It was the same feeling she had got when she saw Abram Diggory kissing Helen Blackward, but this time, it was stronger. She had come to enjoy Arthur's company very much, but hadn't actually thought he'd be interested in _Vane_.

Suddenly, the shock was replaced with anger, boiling the tubers into something slimy and ugly. Molly thought he'd have the brains to stay away from that…that…_cow_! But no….Arthur Weasley thought with his pants like any other boy. She had been a fool to think otherwise.

Well, if that was the way it was, she didn't need to be associated with the likes of _him_.

"Don't let me stop you," she said coldly, still glaring at Arthur. His ears were redder than those troffic lights he had been blathering about the other day.

"Alright-y!" trilled Vane.

Snorting in disgust, Molly stomped off to the common room.

"Molly! Wait!"

She ignored his running footsteps and didn't even look when he slowed down beside her. "It's not what you think—"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Arthur." Her voice sounded frosty even to her ears.

"It was…it just happened! She just grabbed me out of the blue, I swear—"

"Didn't stop you from enjoying it, though."

"Well, yes—I mean, no—I mean—"

His flustering only made her angrier. "Well, which is it, _Artie_?"

The seventh year growled in frustration. "Look, can we—?" In a rare moment of forcefulness, he grabbed Molly's wrist and pulled her into an empty classroom. Molly struggled and then wrenched her arm away as soon as he closed the door. "Of all the—!"

"She just _lunged_ at me!" Arthur went on as if they hadn't been interrupted. "If I had a second to think, I would've told her no!"

"Yeah right—"

"I know she's your rival and everything, but should it _matter_ to you who she suddenly decides to snog?"

Her lecturing halted at this question. No, it shouldn't matter— Regan kissed boys like little girls picked flowers in the springtime. And Molly had caught her publicly snogging enough to be merely disgusted by it.

It was different watching her locking lips with Arthur, though. Molly had never felt more betrayed and humiliated in all her life. The Cow had probably only done it to spite her, but it seemed perfectly sensible to lash out at him anyway. Even if she knew it wasn't sensible.

Was she perhaps…_jealous_?

_Yes. _

Wrestling with this sudden thought, Molly flipped her hair over her shoulder and made her voice indifferent.

"Look, there's no need to tell me about your secret affair with Regan Vane. But sneaking around is just cowardly."

_Ouch, Prewett. _

"_Cowardly!_" he snapped, finally loosing his temper. "That's rich, coming from you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about all the sneaking you've done with your boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend! I don't have a boyfriend!"

"I'm not stupid, Molly!" he yelled angrily. "He's been in the broom cupboard with you! You've been using that cupboard for your snogging since last year! I saw you, remember?"

Molly's mouth opened and closed in stunned disbelief. _What is_—oh!

Her face heated in embarrassment as the memory occurred to her. The reason she knew about that cupboard at all was that she and Tobin Crane had used it for privacy when they went out last year. Arthur had seen the two of them come out once after a brilliant batch of snogging.

Well, that explained why he hung around the floor whenever she was in the cupboard. He was probably keeping an eye on her.

"For your information, Arthur Weasley, I don't have any boyfriend of the sort." Her voice was still heated, but at least she stopped shouting. He snorted disbelievingly. "And if I did, why would I lie about it now? I didn't last time, remember?"

He opened his mouth, and then closed it, grudgingly unable to argue with this logic.  
"But—but—" he sputtered after a moment, "what about he Graphorn powder? I thought it was for, well, you know…_protection_."

His embarrassed flush and avoiding of her eye told Molly what he was thinking. Her indignation rose again and she placed her hands on her hips.

"A _Contraceptive Potion_! Honestly, I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life! I would never—! Anyway, even if I _was_, would I be stupid enough to ask my _brothers' friend_ to help me with something like that?"

Arthur's own fury had wilted under her fiery gaze. "Well…er…now that you mention it…" he mumbled, looking properly abashed. "Probably not."

"That's right!" Let it be known that Molly Prewett knew how to put an accusing boy in his place, she thought, trying to hide her smugness. She almost felt sorry at the look of mingled shame and embarrassment, as though fighting the urge to dig a hole for himself.

Almost.

"I'm sorry, Molly," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just assumed…."

"Assuming is making an arse of yourself," she snapped, repeating one of her father's favourite phrases. He smiled uncomfortably, that lopsided smile she had come to like so much, butterflies started beating gently against her chest. Though she was still upset with him, the anger ebbed a little at the sight of it. "But … since you seem properly apologetic, I'll forgive you."

He sighed in relief. In retrospect, Molly supposed it _had_ been nice of him not to tell Gideon and Fabian she was meeting a secret boyfriend—even if she wasn't.

"I'm still mad at you for kissing Regan Vane though," she told him stubbornly.

"I told you, she just _attacked_ me—"

Molly ignored him, already on a roll. "I mean, really, of all girls! At least if it had been someone _respectable_—"

"Molly—"

"Someone who doesn't force people to make love potions as a bet—"

"I don't.…Wait, _what_?"

Molly's lecturing came to a halt, her eyes widening. _Oh, please, tell me I didn't! Not to_ him.…

But his look of shock told her she had. "What love potion?"

"I…I…." She flushed in mortification, looking away. It was no use. Molly was caught now, and she had always been terrible at lying on the spot.

"What love potion, Molly?" he repeated in a low voice.

"It's…it's just a bet Regan and I have going on, that's all."

"Oh? What kind of bet?"

Really, she wanted to tell him it was none of his business, but her mouth wasn't listening to her brain. "Unless I make a love potion and give some to Abram Diggory," she said in a small voice, "then Regan will tell everyone I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor."

"Molly, anyone with brains wouldn't believe her!" His voice was no longer low, and there was barely-controlled anger in it, too. "You're bravest girl in our house!"

"That's not the point!" Molly shouted, wanting—_needing_—Arthur to understand.

"Then what is it?"

She lost it. "Regan Vane has been a damn thorn in my side since the day I met her! She's smarter and prettier and better than I am, and what's worse is she rubs it in my face all the time! I'm not going to let her beat me at this—I refuse to!"

She could see Arthur's temper was quickly rising to the surface. "You don't need to win a bloody bet to prove you're smarter and better then her! And what about Abram? He's a tosser, but he doesn't deserve to be a pawn in this stupid game of yours."

"It's not like I'm going to make him obsess over me! Just give him enough where he pays me a little more attention!"

"It still doesn't make it right! If you do this, she wins anyway. She gets the satisfaction of knowing she can manipulate you!"

Though her pride was too great to admit it, she was uncomfortably aware that he was right. "Well…we'll just have to agree to disagree, then!" she said lamely. Molly's chest felt like it was holding some oozing, sickly substance.

Arthur gazed at her for a long moment. He seemed…crushed? "You're not as different from the other girls as I thought you were, Molly," he said finally, in that low voice he had used earlier.

Without another word, Arthur stomped the room, banging the door behind him, leaving Molly to come to the realization on why the last look had upset her more than anything he said.

/*\*/*\

"I can't believe you're going through with this, Molly," Marlene told her again.

The fire Molly had lit flickered merrily under the small cauldron. She looked up at her friend, squashed in the broom cupboard with her as she read the love potions book by wand light. The smoke was aired out through the window above.

Molly shrugged, waiting for the Ashwinder eggs to boil. She didn't feel like arguing again.

"I mean, who cares what Vane says?" Marlene went on.

"That's not the point," Molly mumbled.

She ignored her. "Can't you, I don't know, weasel yourself out somehow?"

At the word "weasel," Molly couldn't help but immediately tie it to "Weasley" in her mind. A specific Weasley, actually. The same Weasley she had been trying not to think off since the day before, yet whose words she had tossed and turned over during the night.

_"You're not as different from the other girls as I thought you were." _

When she wasn't thinking about that, she was remembering his crushed look, as if he'd been told Muggles were just a figment of his imagination.

But _why_ had he looked at her that way?

Molly knew now why it had affected her so badly—she wasn't daft, after all. She fancied him. Somehow, between his Transfiguration tutoring and their almost nightly walks, she had come to fancy him. Yet, she was bound to, wasn't she? He was sweet and caring and a good, loyal friend and…. Well, that's what she got for spending too much time around him.

"Molly?"

She started, and realized the water was boiling. "Erm…what do we do after the water boils?"

"Pour in the powdered dill wine and ladybird wings first. After five minutes, bring the fire down to minimum heat and add the powdered horn of Graphorn."

Wordlessly, Molly dumped the first ingredients into the cauldron.

"Are you alright?" Marlene asked. "You're not still upset about—?"

"Of course not!" Molly interrupted swiftly. After her fight with Arthur and the realization she possibly fancied him, it had taken Marley only a minute to know she was upset and only an hour of persistent nagging to get her to confess to what it was.

"C'mon Molly," she said impatiently. "We've been friends for years. You think I don't know when you're lying?"

Molly shrugged again. "It's not like it's that important anyway…"

"It is to you."

"Well, it _shouldn't_ be!" she snapped angrily.

Marlene smiled sagely. "The heart rarely listens to the mind."

Molly snorted, thinking her friend had read too many Freya Frigg romance novels.

_"You're not as different from the other girls as I thought you were." _

They brewed the potion in silence except when Marlene read the book's instructions. Twice, she had to stop Molly from adding the wrong ingredient because Arthur's words kept ringing in her head and his last look swam in front of her eyes. Somehow, she made it through alright, and the potion looked like what the book said. All it needed was a strand of hair.

Molly gazed at the potion. It was the same bright blue color of Arthur's eyes when he was talking about Muggles. The thought constricted her throat.

_"You're not as different from the other girls as I thought you were." _

"He fancies you, you know."

Molly's head snapped up, not daring to believe what she hoped it meant. "What?"

"Arthur Weasley. He fancies you," Marley repeated.

The world seemed to come to a halt. _Since when?_

"He has for ages—since last year, at least," she replied as if Molly had spoken the words out load. "Everyone knows it. Well, everyone except you."

Molly blinked at her, her mouth barely unable to form words. "Wha….Wh-why didn't he—?"

"Reckon he was waiting for you to notice him."

"But I've always—"

"Molly, until he started tutoring you, he was just that goofy friend of your brothers'. Admit it."

The redhead started to tell her that "goofy" was a bit far, but Marlene pretended not to hear.

"Remember that fight he got into last week? It wasn't with Amycus Carrow—it was Tobin. Arthur fought him because Tobin was talking about you as though you were a…a scarlet woman."

"A _what_?"

"A scarlet woman—it's what my mum calls a tart. But that's not the point. The point is, he was defending _your_ honour."

Molly didn't know what to say. If it had been her brothers, she would've been furious. But she never had a boy outside her family fight for her, and the fact it was _this_ boy made the difference.

"Imagine how he must feel, thinking of you as this strong, independent witch above the stupidity of girls like Regan Vane—only to find out you're concocting a love potion. That's not the woman he's come to see you as, Mol. Can't you see why he's heartbroken?"

Molly sat on the floor in stunned silence, while Marlene's words echoed like a cavern in her brain. Arthur _fancied_ her.

And she knew her feelings weren't platonic, either. Perhaps not deep as his—he had fancied her longer, after all, if Marlene was to be believed—but still there.

_"You're not as different from the other girls as I thought you were." _

But she _was_! She was different! This wasn't like her at all. She had always thought of love potions as a despicable way to get someone to love you. Was really willing to sacrifice everything she had ever thought of herself just to snub Regan Vane?

She stared at the potion again. The seconds ticked by.

/*\*/*\

Marlene and her friends were giggling on the sofas after dinner like Molly knew they'd be. The vial of love potion was still clutched in her shaking hand. Marlene clasped her free hand from behind and went to their dormitory—Molly had convinced her it would be better if she did it alone.

"Molly!" Tracy Host piped up eagerly. "So, did you do it?"

Molly smirked. "No."

Regan squealed and jumped from her seat, pointing an accusing finger at Molly. "I _knew_ you couldn't do it, Prewett! I knew you didn't have the _nerve_. Or maybe you just gave it to _Artie_."

"Oh, I had the nerve," Molly replied with a forced smile, stepping closer to her. "Or maybe it was just the desire to beat _you_. Either way, I had every intention of giving Abram the shock of his life. Then a kind, thoughtful boy reminded me that if I were to go through with this, you win anyway. Well, I've decided that you aren't going to win over me anymore.

"Here," she said pleasantly, holding out the vial and _Cauldrons of Love_ out to the older, blinking girl. "It seems a shame to let the potion go to waste. I'm sure you'll find better use for it. It just needs a bit of your spit."

Regan suspiciously examined the potion and then, after a moment, tossed the book aside. "Your loss, Prewett," she sneered. "C'mon girls. I'm sure Abram still eating. If we hurry, we'll catch him in time."

"But it's my turn to use it, Ray!"

"No it's mine!"

"It's _mine_!"

The girls squabbled all the way out of the portrait hole, leaving Molly standing by the fireplace alone.

She flopped into the sofa, her heart racing. All those weeks of sneaking and preparing were all for naught now. Funnily enough, she didn't care. She felt _relieved_. She hadn't won the bet, but she hadn't let Regan beat her ether. The Cow had obviously not read the book close enough to realize that her spit would only ruin the potion, and the thought made her giggle. _If only Arthur could've seen—_

"Molly?"

Recognizing the voice, she slowly looked up into a pair of brilliant blue eyes. "Arthur," she breathed. After a moment, she motioned her head at the cushion next to her, and he wordlessly took it. Molly couldn't help noticing that he seemed to sit closer than what was necessary. She felt her heart leap. Perhaps it wasn't a total loss.…

"I saw you tell Vane off," he said at last.

She swallowed and looked at him, afraid to say anything that she might regret. Maybe all wasn't lost. _Maybe…._

"I hoped you wouldn't let her win." He turned his head to gaze at her. "You're better than that," he said softly.

The intensity in his eyes sent tingles down Molly's spine. "I…I didn't know you thought that." She hoped her look said she was not just talking about her being better, either.

He gave her that lovable, lopsided smile that had to be the best smile in the world. She didn't think she had ever felt this good.

"Go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?" he asked suddenly.

She had been wrong. _This_ was the best she had ever felt. Molly had an inkling that this wouldn't be the last time Arthur Weasley would make her so…happy.

She grinned so wide her mouth hurt.

"Absolutely."

_**A/N:**__ Whew, this was the longest piece I've ever written, but one of the most satisfying. I hope you enjoyed it!  
_


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